The Yin to the Yang
by RinWyn
Summary: One Shot. Ororo/Logan. How true is the saying "opposites attract"? As far as I'm concerned, it's all about the Yin-Yang.


_Disclaimer: I often pretend that the characters in this story belong to me, but pretend is pretend, and this is reality. Characters belong to Me. Wait, I mean Marvel. Yes, Marvel._

**Author's Note:** After writing a new segment for my story Rishta, I suddenly had the inspiration to write something for Ororo and Logan. I've never strayed from the ROMYness before, so this is new territory for me. I've also never written a one-shot before… hopefully I don't completely suck. Please R&R, I'd really appreciate it!

--

**The Yin and the Yang**

The rain fell gently, splattering rooftops and caressing windows. The evening was young, and the dark hue of the sky hid the gray clouds as they waltzed across the open canvas of earth. Somewhere in the distance the dance of lightening illuminated the landscape, reminding drifters that the world was beautiful.

Hidden away beneath the ground, surrounded by thick layers of rock and concrete – within walls that formed the circular room in which she sat – Ororo Munroe could barely hear the effects of a raindrop's caress. The brewing storm that she wove was high above her, but she could feel its essence to the very core of her being.

Those who knew her claimed that they could read her by the weather, but their reading was often times incorrect. They often assumed that dark clouds and falling rain depicted a disconnected and sad mood. But they were wrong. Ororo, much like a delighted flower, was happiest when drops of rain pelted the gentle earth. There was something very refreshing, and very uplifting, in the knowledge that the earth breathed when it rained.

Ororo breathed when it rained.

Her startling blue eyes gazed down into the circular room spreading out before her, watching the form of her teammate glide against the smooth, cold floor. He wasn't wearing his uniform today. Instead, he had opted to wear nothing but a pair of black, cotton shorts. His strong muscles flexed and pulsed as he moved his body in a slow, soft, graceful motion that belied his physique. Ororo's heart skipped a small beat as Logan masterfully displayed the movements of Tai Chi Chuan for her. Well, maybe not for her. But she liked to think it was.

Once a week Logan booked the Danger Room for personal training. He would activate a peaceful, natural location, often with a bubbling waterfall and dense, green foliage. No one was allowed to enter the Danger Room while he was training, and the residents of the X-Mansion assumed it was because he was taking his training to an intense, more dangerous level. On the contrary, he used this time to meditate, and to focus his mind and body to produce pure, spiritual energy. He wasn't embarrassed to display this training to others. He just didn't want to. He liked the serene privacy he had acquired, and preferred to be alone. Therefore no one was allowed in. Except for one.

Many had asked him if they could watch while he trained, either to pick up hints and take notes on tactics, or else to observe in order to improve their own training. The answer was always no. But when Ororo had asked, he had said yes.

At first she had been startled by his answer. When she had watched him for the first time, she felt like she was invading his privacy – that she was peeping into a part of his world barricaded from all others. Sensing her discomfort, Logan had explained that he had allowed her into his space because he knew that she would be able to appreciate it. And she did. As the weeks passed, and the number of sessions she had observed increased, she would use her own powers to help and create a tranquil environment for him. She never joined him in his meditation, but enjoyed watching him. He was a completely different man when he was exposing this peaceful side of himself.

She watched now, as his movements became more fluid. Tai Chi had its roots in the martial arts, but more specifically – and more ancestrally – in the natural movements of animals and birds. A shudder escaped and trickled down Ororo's body. Watching Logan was like watching a work of art. She blushed at the thought.

To distract herself, she held up her hands and the blue iris of her eyes faded. She pulled her consciousness up towards the storm outside, and pulled towards her some of that rain. Slowly, miraculously, the rain seethed through the earth, through the stone and concrete, and into the circular room. Gently it fell, and began to patter its dance across the ground beneath Logan's feet.

Logan continued to move as the rain glided over his body, soaking his hair. Ororo's eyes fluttered to the waterfall, which swelled with the entrance of new water. She wondered if Logan would mind if she took a dip in the river. The rain was beckoning her forward and she couldn't resist the desire to bathe in the same water that was caressing Logan. The rain, after all, made her happy.

She decided to go for it. Logan always seemed oblivious to her presence when he meditated, so she figured he wouldn't notice her if she entered the environment. She stood up from her chair and unclasped her cloak, which drifted down to the floor at her feet. She stepped out the door of the control room, and summoning some wind, glided down into the Danger Room sequence.

If Logan had noticed her entering, he made no indication to suggest so. He continued to move as Ororo took a step into the water. She strode slowly on her long legs, wading in until the water reached her waist. She glided her fingers over the water's surface, marveling at the texture she had come to love. She bent lower into the water and gazed up at Logan. He had stopped and was staring at her now, water dripping from his hair, to his chin, and down his chest. He was breathing heavily, his fists clenched at his sides. Ororo, startled to find him looking in her direction, straightened up. Her wet uniform clung to her wet body.

'I am sorry…' she said, averting her eyes. Logan's stare was too intense for her. 'I did not mean to disrupt your routine. I could not resist the water.'

Logan continued to stare at her. He said nothing, causing Ororo to frown. Had she angered him? She shouldn't have penetrated his space.

'No worries, I was done anyways.'

Her eyes turned to him when he spoke, and she thought she saw something dart across his face. She didn't recognize the expression. She continued to watch as he turned around and stalked out of the Danger Room.

'Oh dear… I think I've angered the Wolverine.' She let loose a sigh, and extending her arms, fell back into the water. It enveloped her, while outside, the rain stopped.

--

Ororo wasn't sure when her feelings began to bow to the thoughts of Logan. At first she considered them a mere affection towards a teammate she had known for a very long time. Then slowly, like a delicious poison, they began to spread deeper and deeper into her well of emotions. It started first with the quickening of her heart whenever he was around; then the thoughts of him whenever they were apart; soon the sleepless, restless nights would fall into place; and then, finally, dreams of him devouring her in the presence of lustful rain.

She wasn't sure if she could call these feelings _love_. She had been in love before, but never had she felt the intensity of powerlessness she felt now. How could she be in love with Wolverine? He was the complete opposite of her in every way. He was rude, brash, cruel, relentless, and instilled fear in nearly everyone who came across him. He was a man of little words with a past shrouded in mystery. He was violent and vicious and didn't care what people thought of him. He was hairy, with unruly hair, and she couldn't remember when he had ever worn clothes that didn't have rips and tears in them.

_And he's short…_

Ororo chuckled to herself as she moved around her attic apartment. The lights were off. Outside the rain had ceased. A slight mist was rising from the earth – a soft blanket covering the truths of the land. Ororo sighed, and the mist rippled.

Regardless of Logan's differences, he had a heart. It was buried deep within his hard chest, but she knew it was there. She had caught sight of it numerous times whenever the people he cared for surrounded him. He was very protective over Kitty, and had an uncanny rapport with Rogue. He was most tamed when with Kurt or Hank. He even softened in Jean's presence. What was it about them that drew his heart into existence? Why could they soften the look in his eyes? Ororo wanted desperately to know their secret. She wanted Logan to gaze unto her as he gazed unto them.

Wait. No, that wasn't correct. She wanted him to gaze unto her as he had never gazed unto another.

She sighed again, causing the mist outside to quiver in annoyance. She turned away from the window and grabbed her robe. She needed some fresh air.

--

Logan stared at the ice floating on the surface of his beer. He had watched the cubes shrink and shrivel, and leave their safe haven at the bottom of the mug to drift forlornly towards the surface. He still hadn't taken a sip. The vision of Ororo, waist deep in water, with beautiful long hair clinging to her face as her wet uniform had clung to every perfect curve of her body, kept flashing through his mind. He couldn't forget the look in her large, serene eyes as she had gazed up at him. She couldn't resist the water, she had said.

Logan let out a groan and pushed his mug away.

'What ails you, my friend?'

'Piss off, Hank.' Logan pushed away from the counter, turning his body on the stool he was sitting on.

'But… you are in my lab, Logan.' Hank grinned as he watched one of his oldest friends deny the beer in his mug a satisfactory home in his gut. Logan was one with beer, but he never touched the stuff when his mind was full of a particular subject. 'Hmm… so what happened? Did she brush up against you in the hallway again?'

Logan groaned. 'I said, piss off.' He pushed his fingers through his damp hair in frustration.

'Why don't you just tell her?' Hank took off his lab coat and hung it behind the door to his office. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, but he couldn't risk going to bed just yet. His curiosity over Logan's dilemma would no doubt keep him up all night if he didn't hear Logan's latest woe.

'Tell her what? That she's drivin' me nuts?'

'Why not?' Hank took a seat beside Logan.

'S'not gonna happen. I ain't her type.'

'Logan, have confidence in yourself! All you need to do is—'

'S'not 'bout f—king confidence, Hank. I know my shit.'

Hank watched as Logan slid off the stool and made his way towards the door. 'I do not follow…'

Logan turned at the door. 'She made it rain in the Danger Room, Hank. I can't compete against that.'

'I… still do not follow.'

Logan groaned. 'Look, whenever I'm 'round her, she makes it rain. It rains all the f—king time.'

'Oh dear,' Hank replied, finally getting it. 'She doesn't seem to like you very much, does she?'

Logan shook his head, his hands balled up into fists. 'No, and that's a problem.'

Hank scratched his chin. 'Just carry around an umbrella,' he said, but Logan had already shut the door.

--

Ororo bent down slightly as she entered the mini X-Jet. She had just heard from Scott that she had been pulled from the next mission. Upon further inquiries she was told that the suggestion to pull her was made by Wolverine. He didn't feel that it was necessary for her to come along, considering there would be little use of her powers on this particular mission. Scott had agreed.

Ororo, somewhat taken aback by Logan's reasoning, decided to search him out and demand an explanation. No one had ever kicked her off a mission before, and regardless of her feelings towards him, her pride had been hurt.

'There you are.'

Logan's nostrils flared as the intoxicating scent of Ororo invaded his senses. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, savouring the scent of her in his mouth. He then stood up, and with a forced resolution set on his face, turned to face her.

'Whatcha want, 'Ro?'

Ororo set her jaw, glaring at him through those eyes that haunted all his dreams. 'Why are you pulling me off this mission?'

Logan shrugged, faking indifference, and turned back to packing the extra provisions in the storage box. 'We don't need you for this one.'

Ororo narrowed her perfect eyebrows, her lips pressed into a tight, agitated line. 'That is not for you to decide.'

Logan continued to ignore her, hoping that by doing so she would leave him alone. He had never meant to anger her by getting Scott to pull her off the mission. He just knew that he wouldn't be able to focus on the objectives if she were around. Wolverine, who was trained as a samurai, now found that his concentration splintered whenever Storm was around him. He couldn't stand the thought of her being in harm's way, and the need to keep her safe seemed to govern his actions. He feared this change in him. He was a warrior, a finely tuned weapon, a precision expert. He lived for the battlefield and felt most like himself when he was in combat. The thought that Ororo could now, so simply, cloud his concentration, enraged him. Slowly, through her very existence, she was stripping away the identity he had so carefully built around himself.

He was an animal. And she? A beautiful, exotic flower. It was inevitable that he would eventually, some day, crush her beneath his heavy paw.

'Is there another reason, then?' Ororo's voice brought Logan back from his thoughts. He could feel the air crackling around her, sparks of static periodically erupting around her fingers.

'No.'

'Are you still mad that I interrupted your training?'

A growl escaped Logan's lips and he turned around, glaring at her. 'Back off, will ya? I have work to do.'

'And you still have not answered my question.'

'The whole world don't revolve around you, 'Ro. Why can't ya just leave a guy alone?'

He pushed past her, and noticed for the first time that they had an audience. A few of their teammates had boarded the jet and had stopped to observe the odd interaction between Wolverine and Storm. Logan frowned. If he had known that there were others witnessing their conversation, he would never have talked so rudely to Ororo. She was revered by her colleagues and posed as a strong, independent female role model for many of them. And yet here he was, putting her in her place. He turned around, his expression apologetic. But the look in her eyes stopped the words in his throat. Her face revealed her embarrassment at being talked to in this manner in front of the others, and there was anger bubbling at the corner of her mouth. But her eyes…

Logan felt his stomach drop into a void of emptiness. He couldn't quite put a name to what he saw in those eyes, but he knew he never wanted to see it again.

'Very well,' he heard her say, Her tone of voice seemed steady and unwavering, but he could hear a tinge of pained sadness around the edges. She pushed passed him, wished her teammates good luck on the upcoming mission, and stepped off the jet.

Logan watched her leave, her fists clenched at her sides. Outside, he could hear a heavy wind push against the walls of the hanger.

'What was _that_ all about?' Kitty asked, staring at Logan.

Logan turned away from the window, and continued with his work. 'None o' your business, half-pint.'

--

It was a cold, crisp night when Logan returned from the mission. As the others unloaded their gear from the jet and sulked off to their rooms for some much needed rest, Logan sensed the distinct absence of some aura. Emptiness hung in the wind that blew around him. This wasn't the usual wind he would feel upon his return from a mission, welcoming him back home. This wind was different.

It wasn't hers.

Logan picked up his own gear and left the hanger for his room. A large part of him wanted to head up to the attic, where his flower slept. But he couldn't do it. That look in her eyes had robbed all his sleep. He had performed well during the mission, his body moving automatically in combat. But his mind was miles away, trying desperately to keep up with his heart. He couldn't stand knowing that he had hurt her in any way, and he wanted – no _needed_ – to heal his conscience. As painful as it was to admit it, he didn't have the courage to confess his feelings. He couldn't stand the chance of hearing the rain fall. He was darkness. He refused to swallow her beacon of light with his stained hands.

He pushed through the door to his room and collapsed onto his bed. He had to see her, if only just once. He had to apologize for embarrassing her in front of the others. He had to see her smile. Perhaps then… perhaps then she would send her breeze through his window, and finally lull him to sleep.

--

She wasn't there.

She wasn't anywhere.

She wasn't on a mission. She wasn't on a job for Charles. She wasn't out with the girls. He searched for her, discreetly, hidden from the others. But she had gone.

'To Africa,' Hank had informed him later.

'Fer how long?'

Hank had shaken his head, fixing his glasses over the ridge of his nose. 'She didn't say. I presume she wanted some time alone.'

And so weeks passed. Then months. Logan's private Danger Room sessions were becoming painful. His eyes constantly kept darting up to the control room, hoping each time to see her smiling face looking down at him, and each time feeling the gut-wrenching disappointment.

It never rained now. The vast grounds of the Mansion were beginning to fade in colour. The flowers wilted. The trees moaned.

Logan's frustrations mounted and peaked. He couldn't stand it, not being around her. Just the sight of her, just the scent of her, was enough to keep him sane. Why had she left? Why had she left him behind? He couldn't do it. He couldn't keep reminding himself that it wouldn't work between them. He couldn't keep reminding himself that she was out of reach, that his tainted soul would devour her innocence. He couldn't keep reminding himself that she rained… rained every time he was near.

He couldn't keep reminding himself that she was completely unlike him in every way. She was soft; he was hard. She was tranquil; he was restless. She was gentle; he was harsh. She was the cool night; and he, the fiery day.

She was the Yin to his Yang, and without her, he was incomplete.

He had to find her, and bring her home to him.

--

A yellow leaf fluttered in the breeze, bouncing along the waves of air that coursed through the gentle landscape. Slowly, as if on dainty feet, it landed gently in a nest of silk. Ororo reached up and pulled the leaf from her hair. She gazed at it for a moment, and then held out her hand and watched the leaf take flight once more.

She was standing at the edge of a cliff, the vast African landscape spreading out beneath her feet. Nature stood still, watching its goddess salute her native land. Her long hair rose in a gentle breeze as she watched the lone leaf dance away from her and fade into the darkness. The sun had disappeared and Ororo found herself on twilight's threshold.

She sighed, and the world sighed with her.

She had come back to Africa to forget him. She wanted to be reborn, to be reminded of who she was and why she lived. She was the goddess of weather, and refused to limit herself to the powers of one man. No one made Ororo Munroe bow to her own insecure feelings. No one made Ororo Munroe run and hide. She was a force to be reckoned with – a wild and unattainable storm.

But she was weak. She was weak in her desires as a woman. Nothing could quench the feelings in her heart. Not Africa. Not the storm. Not the stubborn Wolverine.

Suddenly, she felt the molecules in the air break apart, and turned to find the very man advancing towards her. His hair rippled in the hard wind, his body bent in his need to reach her quicker.

Her heart began to beat at an uncanny pace. His jeans and white t-shirt were ragged and torn, his boots worn and dusty. His brow was knit in determination, his metal claws extracting and retracting from his balled fists. As he neared, Ororo could hear his panting breath and see the sweat dripping from his chin.

What was he doing here? Her mind raced to formulate some sort of explanation. But before she could string two coherent thoughts together, he had grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into a crushing embrace.

'Why…' he growled, his breath hot against her neck. 'Why did you leave?'

'Logan, I—' But the words failed her. The strong arms holding her – holding her together – pressed her against a hard chest and, suddenly, she could hear the rapid beating of a strong heart. That very heart, which she had thought unattainable, was beating rapidly… for _her_.

She pulled back, her wide eyes fluttering to his face, searching for some meaning. She found it, in his gentle eyes.

'Don't do it again.' His voice was hoarse and determined, but when he smiled, Ororo knew. He was hers.

The rain began to fall.

Logan weaved his fingers through her long, silky hair as he leaned in and kissed her – kissed her like a man starved. Ororo whimpered into his mouth as his lips crushed against hers. Her legs gave way, and she melted into his hard, strong body. 'Damn you,' he whispered, his voice husky in his desire for her. He held her closer, knowing that he would never, ever let her go. 'And damn this rain...'

She smiled as she reached up and stroked the back of his head. 'The rain falls,' she breathed, 'when I am most happy.'

Logan pulled back, his hand moving up to caress her cheek. 'Now ya tell me.'

She laughed, and Logan basked in her presence. He grabbed her hand in his, and pulled her towards the night.

'Let's go home, 'Ro. Let's go home.'


End file.
